


Everlasting Night

by morii



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7221391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morii/pseuds/morii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 68th Hunger Games, in the eyes of the public, was no different from the rest. Children formed alliances then turned against one another until one remained standing. But behind the censored airings a tiny act of rebellion shimmered dimly in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everlasting Night

**_“It’s too soon.”_ **

_ “Maybe, but I have his trust. Now is a better time than any to find something of use and gain  _ her _ trust.” He stares at them with blue eyes pleading for support. A pair of brown eyes, always dancing with life, hint at the smallest amount of sympathy. While cool blueish gray eyes mirror their surroundings rather than revealing what lies behind them. “ _ Please _ ” his eyes beg again but nothing gives. _

 

The bed creaks as he moves from it towards the bathroom. Outside the bedroom door laughter rings out as they call him down for breakfast. Huffing at their antics, much uncalled for at this hour and more importantly on this day, he takes a detour to the door throwing it open to yell. The hall lacks any scent of breakfast foods and no sounds of movement echo from below. Shrugging his shoulders he lets the door go, continuing with his morning routine.

Again they call, “Levi. Levi. Breakfast is ready we made your favorites.” But this time he doesn’t budge from his routine. He merely pauses to mutter,  _ go away go away,  _ before rushing into the bathroom then straight into the shower believing they wouldn’t bother him here. As the water sputters out quickly warming itself and him, he’s not proven wrong. From downstairs no voices drift through the walls. The only sound he hears is the soft hissing of the water falling from the shower head to the cold tile floor.

Yet faintly a gentle hum floats above the tall shower doors and down onto his ears. As he finishes washing his hair letting yesterday’s dirt and grime slip into the drain below, he lets himself hum along ready to lose his sense of time to the sound of her soothing voice. Abruptly as the last bit of dirt slides down into the drain, he remembers today’s schedule ending his own humming, and snaps at her. 

“Please not now. Not today.”

From behind the glossy glass shower doors the petite figure doesn’t say a word. She simply continues with her own routine, rinsing the soap away from her face and ending her hums. Feeling the guilt settle around him he slides the door a few inches from the wall to apologize. Staring at the floor like a child caught in the act he starts, “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”  

The room is empty.

Slamming the door he turns to grab the body wash then pauses as he hears her again.

“Tea or coffee?” 

But he doesn’t answer. He listens instead for the sound of the bathroom door opening and the gentle pat of her walking away, knowing when he gets downstairs there will be no tea, or coffee, or any of his favorite breakfast dishes, because he lives alone.

 

Cheerfully, as he enters the kitchen, they greet him smiling wide from cheek to cheek. Acknowledging them he nods then turns to the stove going about his morning routine listening to their noises behind him. As he makes his tea his blond friend prepares a cup of coffee while a perky red-head drowns her food in syrup and the small brunette places lilac flowers on the center of the table before sitting down to eat. Levi glancing at the stove, as his stomach grumbles for his attention, sees the lack of his favorite breakfast dish. He peers at the table behind him seeing three smiles and three memories he can never forget. Sighing he turns his attention back to his tea, slowly losing his appetite.

“Aren’t you hungry big bro? Or are you worried I’m the one who cooked? I promise I used the cinnamon this time.” The redhead beams at him hoping he’d take a few waffles from the stack. But he doesn’t.

The teapot screeches. Quickly Levi grabs a cup from one cabinet, then the sugar and tea bag from another, and the milk from the fridge. While grabbing the sugar the cinnamon sitting besides the pepper, his redheaded friend had used on her waffles by accident, stares at him requesting to pique his memory. Huffing with displeasure he closes the cabinet then proceeds to add the finishing touches to his tea. Grabbing his cup he starts towards the other end of the house towards the backdoor.

Along the way he pauses to address them. “I’d prefer to have my tea outside today…”

“Levi,” the blond man with wild hair calls to him asking, “Need any company?”

“No. It’s okay Farlan. I’m fine.”

Farlan nods his head watching his raven haired friend closely before noticing the redheaded girl leaving her seat to approach their friend. Her arms spread open ready to hug him, but Farlan pulls her back gently by the wrist shaking his head. Just as she’s stopped her words slip out reaching him, “Big brother?”

Reluctantly Levi pays attention to their little scene. Pressing his lips together he steps towards her, ruffling her messy hair once she’s in reach with a smile so small she barely catches it.

“I’m okay Isabelle,” he whispers to her then to Farlan. “I’m okay.”

Before continuing on his way he faces the brunette who plays with the flowers she set on the table.

“We’ll always be here for you Levi. We promise.” She says to him.

He nods glancing from her to the flowers that were once a pretty lilac color, but are now a sickly brown.

“I know.”

He proceeds to the back porch passing through the living room where the wine glasses from the several nights ago sit untouched.  _ Weird,  _ thought he,  _ I cleaned them I always do…  _ Baffled he shakes his head noting to himself he’d attend to them before leaving for three weeks. Yet he couldn’t help but stare at them and notice how much they stood out from the rest of the room, and house, that was kept well polished.

 

_ “Her trust?” _

_ “Yes,” says blue eyes no longer pleading but seeking to assure self-confidence, to brown eyes beneath furrowed brows. _

_ “Please tell me she hasn’t gotten to you with  _ those _ ideas,” brown eyes now plead with blue eyes. _

_ “Even if she did, she’s not the only one thinking this way.” _

_ “Of course not. Everyone thinks that way, but no one actually plans on doing anything.” _

_ “Well she is and so is Plutarch. I’ve even…” He pauses lowering his voice. “I’ve talked to some of the other victors too, they’re willing to join a resistance if it means ending the Games once and for all.” _

_ The brunette shakes her head, “No. It… I’m not against ending the Games, but… This, this plan would be a revolt, a revolution, something no one is ready for.” _

_ “It wouldn’t happen right away. It’ll take several more years, but if I can get her the information she needs, it could happen sooner.” _

 

Outside the morning air is surprisingly cool for a summer day. A gentle breeze dances through Levi’s hair, as birds chirp in the nearby trees. Off in the distance the morning horizon is laced with mountains stretching high towards the sun. Their white snowy caps thousands of feet above complement the healthy foliage of the trees and lush grass below. With a clear blue sky beyond them, the mountain scenery looks almost like a painting. A beautiful painting Levi could live in for eternity. Knowing what today is Levi can’t help but burst his own bubble and mutter to himself about the irony before him. A beautiful day to start a nightmare. 

 

_ “Erwin, you’re not doing this as a favor to Snow. You’re doing this because he threatened you. He caught you. If he figures out you’re turning his own threat against him you won’t live to see whatever revolution they’re trying to stir up.” _

_ “Hanji-” _

_ “Erwin listen to me. I’m not against a revolution. I’m against starting a war that can’t be won. None of the districts have done anything to show they’re ready to take down Snow. If this happens too soon it won’t be worth it. Your death will be for nothing.” _

_ “Would he do it though? Would he kill a victor to prove a point?” _

_ From the left corner of the couch comes a snort. “Snow would kill a bird to prove a point.” _

_ Amused and smiling, but still grim Hanji stares at the man across from her, “You’re more quiet than usual Levi. What do you make of this?” _

_ Taking a small zip from his wine glass, he shrugs, “I trust Erwin’s decision.” Said male slightly taken aback, but pleased with his friends words inches towards his friend as if to hear him better. Levi needing Erwin to understand his decision more clearly, continues. “But I don’t trust Plutarch and I certainly don’t trust  _ her _.” _

_ Erwin nods his head, “I understand.” _

 

From inside, the booming of Caesar Flickerman’s laugh, drifts through the windows and into Levi’s ears. As he does every year, Caesar wishes the Districts and Capitol a good morning, a Happy Hunger Games, and jovially announces the start of the event. He introduces first the set up for today’s reaping, when twenty-four tributes, two from each of the twelve districts, are selected at random, their ages ranging from twelve to eighteen. Though his voice is muffled, Levi can hear the sickening thrill in Caesar’s voice, as he rambles on about the setup of the reaping, then much too excitedly jumps to the Games themselves. The tributes. The arena. The victor turned not only gamemaker, but head gamemaker- Erwin Smith.

Somehow, Caesar Flickerman dubbed the Master of Ceremonies, crafts his and the Capitol’s enthusiasm over bloodshed into a poetic flowing river that, if one is not careful, almost makes the Games sound enticing. 

As Caesar’s words trickle out from the windows, the tea in Levi’s cup becomes thick, sticky, and red. The soothing taste of herbs in his mouth, turns to the troubling taste of iron. Wide eyed, Levi leans over the porch railing, spitting out blood that upon hitting grounds turns to tea. Wiping his mouth he looks at his tea. A lovely crimson, with a pungent iron scent, shining beautifully in the morning sun.

“Disgusting.” 

Grumbling he storms back into the house, where Caesar continues booming about the Games. Roughly, as he passes back through the living room, he grabs the wine glasses in one hand, while maneuvering carefully into the kitchen without spilling leftover wine or tea turned to blood. As Caesar continues booming from the next room, Levi tosses the glasses and tea cup into the sink then turns on the hot water. A bit too harshly, but not so much that he breaks the glasses, Levi scrubs the dishes spotless.

While preparing to dry the glasses Levi half listens to the holographic tv as Caesar wraps up his announcements. With the still quiet of the morning settling back into the house, Levi’s brutish actions against the glasses lessens. Now dry and shiny, the wine glasses are placed in their spots in an antique cabinet standing in the corner of the kitchen. The cup however remains by the sink. Red stains mock Levi. 

“It’s not real,” he mutters, “It’s not real.”

He wills the stains away, but instead of shrinking they grow twice in size. 

“It’s. Not. Real.” 

Ignoring the stains he shoves the cup back in the cabinet. As the cabinet door slams shut he stalks away towards the stairs to grab his bag. In about two hours he’s due at the train station to drop off his bag, then due at the town’s center for the reaping. From there he, along with the assigned district escort- a glorified tour guide he calls them, will accompany the two poor souls to the Capitol.

Knowing he’s throwing the whole schedule off Levi storms out of the house regardless. The air of not only the house, but of the whole Victor’s Village clutches at his throat threatening to suffocate him. The walk to the train station isn’t far, but if he stops by his old place where the air feels light and welcoming, he might stay on schedule. Somehow the beat up buildings of District Five rarely evoke voices. Memories here stay memories. Even if they do manage to break the barrier he will at the very least be far from the stained cup. Here he could pretend his games never happened.

 

_ “So it’s settled? I’ll keep Snow happy, and find kindling for a revolution.” _

_ Worried, but with no further arguments they agreed. _

  
As familiar faces came into view, somber and fatigued, he thinks to himself.  _ A revolution? A Panem with no Hunger Games? A nation with food and safety for everyone? Is it possible? Would any of us live to see the day? _


End file.
